


Gold

by Fourthera



Series: Lucio Week 2018 [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Lucio Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 08:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13360941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fourthera/pseuds/Fourthera
Summary: First entry for Lucio Week 2018. Prompt was "gold." Happy birthday, you trashy ghoast (goat ghost)!





	Gold

            Lucio’s prosthetic arm is, in it’s basest form, a golden statement of power. It says, _I may have lost this arm, but I’m still capable of making you suffer._ But, perhaps more interestingly to Nika, the arm is a magnificent working of metal and magic, though by whom she can’t discern and Lucio isn’t telling. As she examines it at Lucio’s personal desk, Lucio reclines in his chaise with a book, but she can tell he isn’t reading.

            “How fares your book, Count?” she asks with a grin he can’t see.

            “Splendidly, my dear,” he answers immediately. “Why do you ask?” Nika’s smile grows while she extends and detracts the fingers with little sparks of magic, marveling at the smoothness of action like she has maybe a million times before.

            “You haven’t flipped a page in quite a while,” she comments. “Either it is a very difficult section or, I daresay, you’ve been staring at me almost from the start.” Lucio barks a laugh.

            “And if I was?” Nika turns in her seat and raises her brow at the Count. His golden blonde hair is tousled and falling into his darkly lined silver eyes, which watch her with interest and at least a little mischief. His book—a little primer on basic magic she’d loaned to him—is closed in his lap, likely so for a long time.

            “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she says with a chuckle and turns back to the desk. “You stare at me a lot; it’s quite impolite.” Nika returns to her exploration of the prosthetic and it is silent for a while.

            “Why are you so _fascinated_ with my arm?” Lucio eventually asks. The curiosity in his voice compels Nika to answer.

            “It is—“ She pauses a moment and ponders how to properly explain. “It’s a true mimic of your arm,” she finally says. “As if it were cast from the very one you lost. But, more than that, the magic that makes it is unlike anyone’s I’ve ever met.”

            “How so?” Lucio questions. Nika picks up the arm and brings it to his side. Carefully, she straightens it out to its full length alongside the chaise. In it’s dormant state, you would never have been able to tell that it was anything more than a normal prosthetic arm, but to Nika it was easy to see.

            “You likely don’t notice it anymore since you wear it everyday,” she says. With a long steady breath, Nika creates a gust of air to hold the golden mechanism so her hands are free to grab his. “Look at it, then close your eyes,” she commands and in a surprising bout of docility, Lucio obeys. “I will show you what I see.” Nika closes her eyes and concentrates on the arm. The image comes to her quickly, just as she’d seen it the first time Lucio ever had her recalibrate it: lines, circles, and triangles all coming together to form his arm in magical golden geometry. When Lucio sucks in a surprised breath, she knows he’s seen the same. She takes her hands from his and picks up the arm again.

            “Whoever made this”—she casts him a single mildly displeased glance—“was unlike any other magician I have ever met. Their magic is like sacred geometry; ensuring the arm functions and that it’s complexity doesn’t interfere with your use.” She stands and moves to Lucio’s vanity dais to set his prosthetic in its stand. Originally, he’d used his bed to help him get the prosthetic on, but Nadia had eventually commissioned the stand for him, possibly as an olive branch after one of their spats, though Nika wasn’t sure.

            “You use geometry in your own magic,” Lucio says, but the question is unspoken.

            “Yes, I do and that is typical of many magicians. Rather...it is the form of thought. This person was direct and designed the arm like a mechanical machine. They went from problem to solution in steps, designing a set of functions and rules in the arm’s magic for you to naturally understand and never need to learn. Their magic is firm, yet compliant, as you can easily use it,” Nika responded as she finally got the golden arm settled into the stand right. “It was designed to last a long time with little maintenance, as if the person knew they wouldn’t be able to fix it should you ever break it.” She returned to Lucio’s chaise and sat by his knees. For once, he wasn’t grinning in his usual fit of sneering ridiculousness and drama. He was only curious—a rare moment of innocence seen by few.

            “I fail to see how this is different,” Lucio says. He leans towards her oddly earnestly, propping his head up on his hand as he looks at her. She shakes her head with a small smile.

            “Have you had any pain? Does the harness still chafe?” she asks him. She begins to reach for his collar, to lift his shirt and see the effects of the harness she’d made for him, but he pushes her hand away.

            “No pain,” he says dismissively. “Explain how it is different.” Nika laughs at the return of his imperiousness.

            “I am not good at making magic for other people,” Nika confesses softly. “For some reason, I cannot conceptualize the idea of my magic working for others.”

            “And why would that be?” Lucio immediately asks. “You seem to have no trouble with doing magic, so why aren’t you able—“ Nika stands from her spot at the chaise, interrupting Lucio’s questioning. “Come back here!” he demands. Nika only grins at him and grabs a pomegranate from the dish of fruit near Lucio’s bed.

            “Can’t I have a snack while we chat?” she purrs, rolling the fruit firmly between her hands. With a practiced wrench followed by a loud crack, she forces the fruit open and returns to her spot on the chaise.

            “Well, then care to share?” Lucio croons. Nika bit into half and passed him the other, which he accepted with a sly smile. “Do continue, my dear.” She chews slowly and daintily, taking her time while Lucio watches her every move over his own slice of pomegranate.

            “Alright,” she concedes, but adds, “I will have to make my explanation quick then. It’s getting quite late and I need to return to my shop.” Lucio groans.

            “You will stay the night,” he counters firmly, but Nika only shakes her head.

            “Mercedes! Melchior!” Nika shouts.

            “You wouldn’t,” Lucio snarls and glares venomously, but both of them can already hear the clicking of his hounds’ nails on the floor. Nika leans close with a grin and whispers, “I already have.” As the dogs burst through Lucio’s bedroom door, Lucio freezes like a child caught by his mother, pomegranate clearly visible to the dogs. Nika slips away just before the dogs pounce on their supposed master, tossing her partially eaten slice into the pile of white fur and yips.

            “Sorry, Count,” Nika shouts with mirth over the dogs and Lucio’s shouts, “I’ll have to talk to you later!”

            “Veronika! Get back here!” Lucio cries over his dogs, but Nika only laughs and makes haste from his room. A servant hovers around the corner at the end of the hall, looking worriedly towards the Count’s room. Nika waves them away with an easy smile.

            “He’s fine,” she says with a chuckle. By the time Nika makes it out of the winding halls of the castle to the entrance after collecting her cape from the doorman, Lucio is waiting on his balcony over the entry bridge. Mercedes and Melchior are two milling fluffs of white through the railing bars, and there is a discernable splotch of reddish-pink pomegranate juice on Lucio’s white shirt. Nika laughs and waves as she pulls her hood over her head. She pauses a moment on the bridge, looking at Lucio, but ultimately shakes her head and turns away.

            “You won’t dig up all my secrets yet, Count,” she says, mostly to herself as she walks out the palace’s large entry gate. The city below the palace is dark, but not entirely quiet. Even so, Nika descends into the city below and away from Lucio’s sight.

 

            Lucio watches Veronika go with not a little frustration. When she pauses mid-step on the bridge, he thinks that she’s changed her mind and leans forward in anticipation, but she continues on through the gate and disappears into Vesuvia. He scowls sourly at his two hounds, which look back at him with lolling tongues in expectation of more fun and another pomegranate.

            “She would have stayed if you two wouldn’t have gotten involved,” he pouts. Mercedes and Melchior only tilt their heads, tongues still lolling. Lucio sighs. “I swear, you two like her more than me.” With his dogs trailing behind him, Lucio returns to his room, which feels suddenly empty without Nika to help fill the space. He props his hand on his hip and sighs, bored without her there to entertain him. For all his room’s gilt, it only seemed to glitter now when she was there...but he still enjoyed the gilt.

            He plucks up her magic book from the floor beside the chaise, examining its covers for pomegranate juice, which thankfully there seems to be none. He puts it on his desk next to the little tools Nika used to adjust his prosthetic. He caresses the desk’s edge, remembering how she’d so delicately leaned against it while she worked. Oh, he’d wanted to touch her; wanted to gently tug on that charming gold feather earring that peeked out from her hair and rested on her shoulder while she worked—wanted her black-eyed attention on him. He’d seen it in his mind: him, standing from the chaise and caressing her jaw, coaxing her...And then she’d spoken and turned those dark enigmatic eyes to his and his daydream was lost.

            With a groan, he curses and unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way. He could have managed it if he’d just kept his mouth shut, he realizes. She was ready to undress him as it was, but she’d known that he wouldn’t have been able to keep his mouth shut and his curiosity down, the sneaky, clever little witch.

            Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow, he’ll have her.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos! ;D


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